Regrettable Attraction
by streepgirl
Summary: Andy stops by Sharon's house one night hoping to explain himself. Unexpected feelings soon emerge.
1. Chapter 1

**This chapter is set following Raydor's investigation into Flynn's past in **_**Old Money**_**. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. No copyright infringement intended. **

Chapter 1

9:04 PM Sharon Raydor's House

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

Sharon groaned at the sound. She had just begun her Survivor marathon and really did not need another interruption; her DVR had been filling up for weeks. Reluctantly, she stood and jogged toward the door, white robe flapping behind her. She quickly glanced through the keyhole. _Flynn?_ She leaned back against the closed door. _What does he want?_

He knocked again.

"Damnit," she whispered. Between the living room lights and her car parked out front, there would be no doubt in Flynn's mind that she was home. _Maybe I could say I was in the shower._

"Sharon?" Now, he was pounding on the door.

_Okay. Just answer it._ She quickly pulled her robe closed and ran several fingers through her hair.

"Hello Lieutenant," she said in her best professional voice. "What a surprise."

"I thought you weren't home for a minute there."

"Oh, I was just…ah, upstairs. Sometimes its hard to hear the door from up there."

He nodded. "Sorry to drop by like this. I know it's late and everything." Flynn glanced down at her wardrobe. Although she continued to hold the robe closed, it did a poor job of hiding her outfit underneath. The striped pajama bottoms in various pastel colors made Andy smile. She seemed much less intimidating without the pantsuit.

"Oh, it's no problem. I wasn't really doing anything." She laughed nervously, pulling the robe tighter. "Please, come in."

Andy stepped into the foyer and Sharon shut the door behind him. She quietly slipped past and continued further into the house. He followed.

Andy did not know what exactly he had expected to find inside Sharon's home, but it wasn't this. Perhaps he had imagined something stale and uninviting. One of those new development houses with blank white walls and sleek granite counter tops, the kind that reminded him of the dollhouse his daughters played with as children. Perfect, but never fully lived in.

He had at least expected it to be clean.

Instead, the house seemed a little chaotic. Shoes littered the narrow hallway that followed the front door. Andy recognized a pair of familiar black pumps as he shuffled past the mess. Several coats were flung across a small bench sitting against the staircase wall. Three photographs hung opposite. The black and white pictures were breathtaking. _Mountains_, or at least, they resembled mountains. He had a hard time making out the blurry images. No. Not blurry…_old. _They were tinged with age. Andy found them intriguing, but there wasn't much time for pondering old photos. Sharon had already vanished around the corner.

Andy quickly followed. He had a hard time suppressing the gasp of surprise as he rounded the corner into the living room.

"Sorry for the mess," Sharon said, reaching across the couch for the remote. "I've been so busy with work and everything I just haven't had time to clean." She clicked off the television and began organizing the swarm of magazines that covered the coffee table.

"No, it's not that. It's just…that's a lot of books," he said, gesturing toward the back wall. Stretched out, behind the dark, leather couch, were a series of large book shelves, four, in all. Their intricate chestnut latticing stretched all the way up to the ceiling. _Holy Shit_. There must have been hundreds of books, all lined up next to each other in dozens of neat rows. Some were even piled on top of the rows. Every open inch of space filled. In all honesty, Andy found it a bit overwhelming.

"Oh yes, _the books_. They were my husband's."

_Were?_

"Do you like to read?" Sharon asked.

"Uhhh…not really," said Andy, still staring at sea of bindings. He noticed the thin layer of dust coating the shelves. "I guess I don't have the time for it."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Sharon was struggling to hold onto the large stack of magazines she had compiled as she teetered toward the kitchen. "Can I get you anything?" She dumped the copies into a large wicker basket on the floor.

"No," Andy responded, turning around. "No, I'm fine." Seconds later, as if prompted by some devious god of fate, his stomach made a low rumbling noise.

Sharon smirked. "Sit." She pointed toward a stool at the counter. It was an order not a question.

Andy sat down. He felt awkward, watching Sharon move around her kitchen, the robe she had been holding closed earlier was now hanging at her sides. He wished he hadn't come. Andy knew so little about Sharon Raydor and her life outside of work. Maybe it was supposed to stay that way. Him being here, sitting at her kitchen counter, felt like an invasion of the privacy she had tried so hard to protect. Who was he to force his way inside?

Sharon moved a stack of dirty dishes into the sink and then drifted off toward the refrigerator.

Sitting there, watching her long brown hair sway back and forth, Andy could not remember why exactly he had decided to drop by Raydor's house. Yes, he wanted to talk to her about the investigation. And yes, he had wanted to apologize, but those weren't reasons enough to prompt an at home visit. There was something more. Andy, not being the sort of man to drown in self-reflection, decided not to dwell on it.

"Hmmm…" Sharon said, peering through the open refrigerator door. She tapped her fingers against the hard metal. "How about a sandwich?"

"That's fine. Thank you."

"Ham or turkey?"

"Ham."

She leaned over and pulled out two small wrapped packages followed by a jar of mayonnaise. After setting them on the counter, she moved toward the back of the kitchen.

_Ugh...whole wheat_, he thought. Sharon pulled a half-eaten loaf of bread out of the cabinet.

Andy watched in silence while she assembled the sandwich and placed it in front of him.

"So," Sharon said, crossing her arms in front of her chest and leaning against the counter. "What made you decide to…_stop by_?"

The tone in her voice irritated him. It seemed a tad too condescending. He chewed slowly, making her wait.

"Um…well, I guess I just wanted to…apologize."

"Apologize?" She seemed taken aback. "Apologize for what?"

"For my being an ass earlier today."

She didn't say anything. Her eyes narrowed slightly behind her dark frames. "Apology accepted." And with that, she uncrossed her arms, pushing herself away from the counter. Flynn noticed her breasts bounce slightly under her white tank top. _Is she not wearing a bra_? He quickly pushed the thought from his mind. Sharon began to rewrap the lunchmeat still sitting on the countertop.

"And…" he paused. "Those files…all the accusations." There was disdain in his voice. "I just wanted you to know. That's not who I am anymore. That guy…he's long gone."

Sharon was silent. She stood in front of him, meticulously folding parchment paper around the ham. "I know." It was barely more than a whisper. She opened the refrigerator again, putting the ham back in its rightful place.

A quiet settled over them. Andy couldn't help but wander what she was thinking...what she thought when she first saw him standing outside her door. _Probably, wished she hadn't left the living room light on. _

"You do know that I have no choice in who I investigate. I'm just following orders." Her voice had caught him off guard.

He tried hard not to choke on the sandwich. "Yeah, I know."

She nodded and moved toward the sink. The water hissed as it splashed against the knife's hard surface.

Andy continued eating. "Are those your kids?" he asked, pointing toward the picture frame leaning against the kitchen wall. A change of topic might be nice.

"Yeah," she said glancing at the photo.

"How old are they?" His words were muffled slightly.

"Jacob is 17 and Lauren is 15."

"My girls are 15."

"I didn't know you had kids."

"Yep, Amanda and Aubrey. Twins. Their mother liked the double 'A' thing," he added, rolling his eyes.

She was quiet, still focused on cleaning the knife. Finally, she shut off the water.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Why did you call me?"

"What?" he sputtered, swallowing a large piece of ham.

"Why," she repeated slowly, "when you could have called anyone…Chief Johnson, Lieutenant Provenza…did you call me?"

"Oh, well…uh." He coughed slightly. _Think, Andy, think_. The truth was, Andy didn't know why he had called Sharon after the attack. "I guess I thought, 'Well, I just shot someone. I better get Internal Affairs down here and explain what happened before I get into any more trouble.'"

"Hmmm…" Sharon pursed her lips. Andy hated when she did that.

"And you know…the shock of it all. I guess I wasn't really thinking straight." He wished she would stop looking at him.

"Right." The word was soft. Andy couldn't tell what she was thinking. "I guess you did have an excuse…having just been stabbed and all." She smiled, glancing quickly at his left arm, which sat limply in a sling.

"Yeah, well, some may call me a hero," he waved his good arm for dramatic effect, "but, I was just doin' my job. Fighting crime, protecting the city from unwanted criminals, saving forgotten children…."

"Being stabbed by a conniving ex-con," she added jokingly. _Was she flirting?_

"Whatever it takes, Mam."

Sharon laughed. _She has a nice laugh._

Andy wished he could think of something else to say.

"I guess I better go," he said finally, moving to stand up. "It's getting kinda late."

Sharon glanced at the clock. 9:31. "Yeah, I guess it is." _It's not that late_.

The stool screeched against the tile floor as Andy moved it back into place. He walked slowly toward the door, stopping briefly to look again at the three black and white photographs. Sharon followed behind him.

"I promise not to make any more unexpected visits."

"Oh, that's okay." He noticed she was holding the robe closed again. She tilted her head slightly so that her hair fell in her face. She brushed it away, tucking it carefully behind her ear. _Jesus, she was beautiful. Why had he never noticed before?_

Sharon put her hand on the doorknob but didn't turn it. She wished she could think of something more to say, but her mind seemed to have turned into a vast vacuum of empty space. Instead, she just stared, examining the lines and creases that journeyed across Andy's face. Several new gashes cut across the old scars, blatant markers of his recent attack. She had the overwhelming urge to trace her finger along the jagged edge. _Oh my god, what is he doing?_

Andy's right hand came to rest against Sharon's cheek, gently tracing her jaw line. Her face went flush and her eyes grew wide. Sharon opened her mouth in protest, but her words were silenced by the touch of Andy's lips against her own. His stubble scraped against her skin as he pushed closer. She parted her mouth slightly, deepening the contact. The sharp pressure of his hand against her cheek was almost painful now, but she didn't move. She wanted this to last. A moment later, he pulled away.

Sharon took a step back, tripping into the wall. Two of the photographs framed her head on either side. Andy noticed the redness that had crept into her cheeks and could hear the heightened pace of her shallow breaths. _Gorgeous._

He moved past her and opened the door. A rush of warm wind billowed into the hall. Several leaves landed lightly on the stone threshold. "Have a nice night, Captain," he said. The door shut behind him.

**Author's note**: With the onset of Major Crimes, I have become increasingly interested in the possibility of a relationship between Flynn and Raydor. In Old Money, I was intrigued by the fact that Flynn called Raydor following his attack before he called any members of his division. I think this shows a certain level of trust building between the two characters, which is then jeopardized when Raydor is forced to investigate Flynn. There is definite tension, but I would like to see the characters come together despite that.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

8:54 AM, LA POLICE DEPARTMENT HEADQUARTERS

"Hold the elevator!" Andy barely slipped his hand between the metal doors. Slowly, they reversed direction. "Thanks a lot guys," he said stepping over the slatted grate and into the rectangular space. "I really appreciate the effort."

"We can't wait for everyone," muttered a large man wearing a stained LAPD sweatshirt.

"Yeah, well, fuck…" he stopped, catching a glimpse of straight brown hair, "…you," the last word was barely audible over the sound of the elevator doors clanging shut.

"Captain Raydor," he nodded, craning his neck around the sweaty man.

"Lieutenant," she responded cordially. Andy stepped further into the enclosed space and turned around. He saw that Sharon was wearing her long black trench coat over a pinstriped pantsuit. A part of him had hoped to find her still wearing the striped pajama bottoms. She held a cup of coffee in one hand and three large binders in the other. Andy glanced at the names on the bindings. Fletcher, Walker, McConnell…no one from Major Crimes. Although relieved, he remained slightly disappointed, realizing that this greatly reduced his probability of running into her later.

Sharon shifted the binders to her other arm. A devilish grin washed across Andy's face. Happy to know that she had indeed been watching him, he looked up, bracing himself for a disapproving glare. However, Sharon was not watching him. Her eyes were glued to the numbers above the elevator door. "Floor 12, the Offices of Force Investigation and Internal Affairs," chimed a mechanical voice as the doors slid open. Sharon moved past him without so much as a glance, pushing quickly past the large officer and disappearing around the corner. Flynn could faintly hear the rhythmic echoing of heels just before the elevator closed, sealing itself shut once again.

"Floor 17, the Offices of Major Crimes and Robbery-Homicide."

Andy moved forward. He gave Mr. Sweatshirt a purposeful sneer before exiting into the long grey hallway of the Major Crimes Division.

11:27 AM, FORCE INVESTIGATION DIVISION

Lieutenant Flynn had never visited the FID offices before. It wasn't exactly a destination spot for most officers on the force. As he strolled past the rows of desks, nearly identical to those in Major Crimes, he couldn't help but feel like he was back in elementary school, slowly navigating his way to the teacher's desk.

Andy had always been the trouble-maker in school. At least once a week, a note would be sent home telling his parents what a terrible kid he was. "A disruption to the learning process," it read. His mother would distractedly sign the note, making sure to never tell his father. "Let's just keep this between us," she would whisper. Andy always wondered what would have happened if his dad had ever found out. _Probably more than just a broken whiskey bottle or two. _

Yes, taking a casual stroll through FID was very much like being back in school…dimly lit hallways, hanging white boards, even some leering classmates. He glared at one of the FID officers who had been not so discreetly watching Andy for several minutes now. Unfortunately, under this classroom analogy, Sharon took on the role of principal. Andy couldn't help but mentally chastise her for her less than likable choice of employment. He rounded another corner, this time walking past what appeared to be a large storage area. The room was filled with row after row of boxes.

Past the filing room, he came to a dead end. Andy was beginning to feel as though he were trapped in some sort of cruel maze where every hallway looked the same. He circled back around, this time vowing to focus entirely on name tags rather than school-time metaphors. He had barely turned the second corner before he spotted it.

Captain Sharon Raydor

Head of the Force Investigation Division

The lettering on the sign was disproportionately small when compared the expansive white background. _What? Did we run out of ink money?_ Her office was tucked into a small enclave, closed off from the rest of the division. This seclusion, combined with the closed door and drawn blinds made Andy slightly discouraged. Hoping to catch a glimpse of familiar brown hair, he attempted to peer through a small crack in the blinds. Nothing. _Maybe she took an early lunch_. Just as he turned to leave, he heard the faint shuffle of papers behind the closed door.

_Knock. Knock. _

"Come in."

Andy turned the doorknob. "Hey," he said, stepping into the office and closing the door behind him.

"Hello Lieutenant. What can I do for you?"

He wished she would drop the professional act. "I thought we should talk."

"Yes. Yes, we should. Sit down," she said.

He situated himself in the chair opposite her desk. A part of him had expected her office to reflect the chaos of her home; the surface of her desk littered with magazines and books stacked up against the walls. Instead, the room was nearly spotless. Every pen, folder, and post-it note seemed to have its place. Andy spotted the three binders from earlier stacked on the black metal cabinet behind her. _No books_.

"So, about Friday…." He really didn't know how to approach the subject.

"Yes, about Friday." She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and leaned back, stretching against chair. "I really think we should just forget it ever happened." The statement came so easily, as if it was nothing more than her morning coffee order.

"What?"

She smiled, her teeth glistening white. "I've thought about it, and I've decided that it would be unprofessional to take this any further. I mean these are our careers we are talking about. I can't jeopardize something that important, and I certainly wouldn't want to put you in that position."

He hated her for trying to put the focus on him.

"I honestly don't even know what got into me. You just…you caught me off guard, and I allowed myself to get carried away. Normally, I never would have engaged in such…unconscionable conduct. Not that I blame you, of course." She smiled again. There was something unnatural about it, nothing like the warm grin he had seen in her kitchen several nights before.

Andy was silent, stunned by her brazen refusal. She watched as he repeatedly jostled his leg back and forth, shaking her desk slightly as he did so. "So you just want me to pretend it never happened?" He tried to suppress the anger in his voice.

"That's the general idea."

The last thing Andy wanted to do was forget. He had felt something that night, something genuine, something that he honestly hadn't felt in years. And he thought she had felt it too.

He wanted to punch something.

"I need to get back upstairs," he said, roughly pushing the chair out from under him.

"Okay." Her voice sounded strange. Andy could barely believe that he was with the same woman from three nights ago. _This wasn't Sharon_. "I really hope we can both put this behind us and move on." The words seemed to drip with condescension.

He moved quickly toward the door, needing nothing more than to get away from her.

"Have a nice day Lieutenant." Her words rang down the hall as he disappeared around the corner.

11: 45 AM, MAJOR CRIMES DIVISION, MEN'S RESTROOM

"That bitch." Andy leaned over the sink, his hands tightly gripping the porcelain edges.

He had replayed the conversation over and over again, forcing himself to remember every word. "Unconscionable conduct," he repeated_. Was that really all he was to her?_ "Just some fucking mistake."

He looked at himself in the mirror. His face was still badly bruised from the attack, giving his skin a sickly, purple tint. With every blink, a small spasm of pain radiated across his face. He rubbed his hand gently across his forehead, but that seemed to only make it worse. Leaning over further, he stuck his head under the facet and turned the knob. A stiff stream of cold water coated his entire face, numbing his hot skin. He concentrated on breathing, slowly rotating his head from side to side.

Standing slowly, he turned the knob back. Droplets of water rolled off his nose, splashing lightly against the tile floor. Andy buried his face in a paper towel before looking in the mirror again. He straightened his tie, running his hand slowly down the smooth silk. It reminded him of Sharon's hair sliding against his palm.

"That fucking bitch!" he screamed, slamming his arm against the wall. His knuckles collided with aluminum. Again and again he punched, each time adding more thrust. Finally, he stopped, glancing down at the puckering skin on his hand. The sounds of his repeated punches continued to ring in his ears. _Andy Flynn…the life long fuck up. Who the hell would want you? _

Flexing his fingers, he could feel a new pain building, slowly but surely. He looked up and examined the large dent that now bruised the paper towel dispenser. "Shit." He thought about trying to reshape the deformed metal. _No one will know it was me_. He turned to go, leaving the dent in place.

**Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews everyone. I really appreciate it.**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**Author's Note: This Chapter is set during **_**Death Warrant**_**, following the infamous beanbag scene.**

7:35 PM, MAJOR CRIMES DIVISION

"Did you see her?"

Andy held the small, red, circular disk in his hand. It was hefty, yet light at the same time.

"I mean it was like out of nowhere, there she was and bam!" Tao mimicked the motions of firing a rifle.

As he moved his hands across the beanbag's rough surface, the small spheres inside rotated against his fingertips, gliding seamlessly over one other. The feeling reminded Andy of walking on a beach, the sand rolling beneath his feet.

"Tao, shut up would you." Provenza's voice was rough. "We were all there. We all saw it. We don't need another play by play."

"Even you can't deny Provenza, it was pretty badass," Gabriel chimed in.

"And sexy as hell."

"Excuse me?" Provenza said, turning to stare at Sanchez.

"What? You all were thinking it too," he replied.

Tao and Gabriel shrugged in agreement. Provenza rolled his eyes.

Andy carefully ran his finger across the edges, examining the delicate black stitching holding the contents inside. He noticed the fabric was starting to pull apart on the one side. _Damaged_. That's what friction does.

"And you have to admit," added Gabriel. "She does have good aim."

"That must be why she wears those pointy shoes," Sanchez said with a slight grin on his face. "They point you in the right direction."

Tao laughed. "Who the hell even carries around a bean bag gun anyway?" he asked.

Andy had been trying to ignore Sharon for several months now. He decided it was best to leave the situation like she wanted it. _Like it never even happened. _ She wanted separation, and he was giving it to her. They had barely even spoken in months.

Suddenly, an image flashed across his mind. Sharon sat comfortably at her desk, smiling that smug, unnatural smile she had flashed during their conversation. Even in the memory, Andy couldn't help but focus on the whiteness of her teeth. He wished he could remember her other smile, the one he had seen at her house…the one that made his stomach turn in knots. Instead, he was left with that shining grimace, a symbol of everything that had gone wrong.

"Hey Flynn, toss me that beanbag," said Provenza. Andy didn't respond. "FLYNN!"

"What?"

"Toss me the beanbag."

"Why?" he asked, not yet ready to give it up.

"I just want to look at it."

"Fine." Reluctantly, Andy threw the small red package onto Provenza's desk. What did he care if Provenza looked at it? It was nothing special. _Just a fucking beanbag_.

"I bet that guy didn't even know what hit him." Andy watched as Provenza carelessly tossed the beanbag into the air, catching it in his other hand. Soon, the officers had made a game of throwing it back and forth, every once in awhile stopping to imitate the scene from earlier that afternoon.

More than anything, Flynn wished he could be indifferent. He wanted to look at her with the same mix of disdain and annoyance that everyone else did, but he just couldn't. Whether he liked it or not, Sharon Raydor was something more to him. She was special.

"Whatcha gonna do lady? Shoot me?" Sanchez deadpanned in an exact imitation of the assailant.

Tao stood across from him, holding an imaginary rifle and pretending to focus his aim at Sanchez's forehead.

"Boom!" Gabriel threw the beanbag at Sanchez, hitting him square between the eyes. Sanchez fell to the ground, trashing in fake agony.

Flynn couldn't help but smile to himself. Sharon's outward displays of confidence and power had always been a turn on, but this took it to a whole new level. He had been in total awe as she effortlessly strolled up that cobblestone walkway, rifle in hand. Sanchez was right…_sexy as hell._ He could have done her right then.

He doubted she had felt the same.

Andy sighed. Yet another memory he would have to push out of his mind in a desperate attempt to move past her. Moving past her had proved more difficult than expected. He wished he could forget the feeling of her lips pushing back forcefully against his or the rush of energy he felt as her hot breath danced across his tongue, leaving a sweet essence in its wake. But, forgetting was not as easy as it once had been.

There was anger. Oh yes, there was anger there, but it was jumbled, mixed together with a bunch of other emotions that Andy couldn't seem to separate. This time, the anger could not make him hate her. And he wanted so badly to hate her.

"Flynn, you coming?"

"What?"

"We're going to get some dinner."

"Yeah, I'll be right there." He didn't move from his desk.

Gabriel, Tao and Sanchez shuffled past, still fiercely discussing the day's events. Provenza stayed behind, moving toward Flynn. "What's that matter with you?"

"Nothin."

"Nothing my ass. You feeling all right?" Povenza raised his eyebrows. It was the look that non-alcoholics give alcoholics when they think they might be about to fall off the wagon. It was a look that Andy knew well.

"Provenza, I'm fine. I'm just…" he looked up, waiting expectantly for a response to drop into his head. "…tired," he said finally. "I'm just tired."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

3:44 AM, SHARON RAYDOR'S HOUSE

_Sharon stood in her kitchen. She wore a silken black negligee with delicate lace detailing at the bottom. The material felt good against her skin._

_She heard a door open behind her, and suddenly, the room was flooded with bright light. It reflected harshly off the tile floors, making her squint. She wished someone would close the door. It slammed shut, leaving her in total darkness. She stood like that for a while, unable to see anything, not even the hand she was now waving in front of her face. She stopped waving and stood still. The dark encompassed her like a warm blanket. It felt comforting. _

_Then, out of nowhere, she felt a hand circle around her waist. She reached out, trying to feel her way up the person's arm, but couldn't find anything. Sighing, she gave up. Her arms fell back down, brushing against the hand that sat still on her hip. It gently began to massage her side, pulling the silky fabric back and forth across her sensitive skin. She liked the feeling. _

_The hand slide across her back, pushing her forward until her stomach collided with another object. It felt familiar, but she couldn't place it. Another hand was now moving up her body in small circular motions. She closed her eyes, allowing the feeling to wash over her._

"_Sharon."_

_She opened her eyes. The room was bathed in a dim light, and she saw him, salt and pepper hair, lightly wrinkled skin, insufferably smug grin. She noticed that he wasn't wearing a shirt. She raised her arms, wanting to run her hands across his inviting chest, but he pushed them back down, instead lifting her swiftly off the ground. _

_Her legs circled around his torso, pulling him closer. A warmth radiated from between her legs. She could feel the nightgown slide up her backside, pooling itself around her waist. He was moving, but she couldn't tell where they were going. She had forgotten completely where she was. As her naked skin made contact with the chilled surface of the kitchen countertop, she shivered. _

_His hands left her backside and came to rest upon her breasts. Touching lightly, his thumbs circled her nipples, causing them to harden. He worked slowly, gently kneading her skin back and forth. She closed her eyes. Suddenly, he ripped open the thin negligee and tossed it on the floor. She was now fully naked and fully turned on. _

_His movements became increasingly more aggressive as he lowered his lips down toward her breasts. He sucked deeply, rolling her nipple against his tongue. She let out an audible gasp, and he bit down. Her nails sunk into the tender flesh of his back._

_Slowly, he began to kiss his way up her chest, leaving a trail of wet marks on her neck. She rocked back and forth against him, her breasts skimming the thin layer of hair that coated his chest. Her skin seemed to tingle with life, every touch felt with the highest degree of sensitivity. She moaned as he captured her lips in his own and roughly entangled a hand in her hair. After what felt like a lifetime of passionate dueling, she pulled away. _

_She wanted to touch. Without thinking, she let her hands explore his body. Her palms slid slowly up from his abdomen toward his neck, snaking their way through the dips and valleys of his muscles. Moving out toward his shoulders, she squeezed lightly, seeking out the soft spots among the hard. Her fingertips traveled repeatedly up and down his arms. Up and down. Up and down. _

_Without warning, he returned his lips to hers. Every thought seemed to disappear from her mind. Her focus lay entirely in the feeling of his tongue sweeping erotically across her own. She gasped into his mouth as two of his fingers slid into her. He caressed her, gently at first and then with quickening force. God, it felt so good. _

_His thumb brushed against her clit, and she came. She came, and her entire body shook with a burning sense of feverish exhilaration. Nothing else in the world existed except for this feeling of pure, sweet ecstasy. Before she had fully regained her senses, he pulled out, replacing his fingers with himself. _

_He moved with slow, yet purposeful thrusts. She squeezed her legs tightly around his waist, pushing him further into her. Losing herself in the steady rhythm, her mind once again drifted off into a blissful emptiness. Just as she could feel a second orgasm building, she heard a voice calling her name._

"_Stephen?" she answered._

_Quiet at first, the voice soon grew louder. She struggled to free herself from Andy's tight embrace. Peeking her head around his body, she said the name again. _

"_Stephen?" _

_It was him. _

_She saw nothing more than a flash of light brown hair and the shimmer of sapphire eyes, but it was him. She knew it was him._

"_Stephen," she said again. The voice had disappeared. He had disappeared. "Stephen, come back!"_

_Desperately, she tried to slide herself off the counter, but Andy's weight pushed her back down. She was trapped, unable to move as he continued to roughly thrust in and out._

"_Sharon. Sharon. Sharon." With each thrust he repeated her name. _

"_No. No. Stop. STEPHEN!" She struggled to free herself, pushing helplessly against Andy's chest. A bright light overwhelmed her vision. She screamed. _

"_STEEEPPPHHHEEN…"_

Sharon heard the scream before she fully opened her eyes. Her own voice echoed uncomfortably around the room. She sat up. Breathing hard, she brought a hand to her chest in an attempt to slow her racing heart. She waited, as her breathing returned to its normal pace.

_Third time this week._

A soft breeze rushed in through the window causing goose bumps to prickle across her skin. She reached up and wiped the now cooling moisture off her forehead. Her hair stuck awkwardly to the sides of her face. Hoping this would not be cause to re-shower in the morning, she pulled the loose strands back into a tight ponytail smoothing the wet pieces against her scalp.

_Five years_. Five years since her husband had died, and still, he haunted her dreams at night. She had come to terms with it, or at least, she thought she had come to terms with it. She no longer stood by the window expecting his car to pull into the driveway. She no longer cooked enough for four when there were only three to feed. She no longer lost her focus at the mention of his name. She had come to terms with it. And yet, here he was. Night after night, she saw him, and night after night, she lost him all over again. She could not remember the last time she had gotten a full night's sleep. _Five years ago_.

Sharon's mouth had become uncomfortably dry. She turned, reaching an arm backward toward her bedside table. Her shoulder twisted painfully until finally her hand closed around a small, plastic cup. The water tasted stale. She returned the glass to its place.

Laying back down into her previous position, Sharon stretched her leg across the length of the bed; the emptiness was a gentle reminder of his absence. _He was never coming back_. She inhaled deeply. His smell had disappeared long ago, but sometimes, just imagining it was comfort enough.

Right after it happened, when she would lie awake for hours every night, the thing she had missed most was his smell. Such a subtlety, she had thought at the time. Something that couldn't be missed until it was gone. She pushed her head further into the pillow and closed her eyes.

Images of her dream returned to her. She could almost feel Andy's hand drawing tiny, circles across her hip. It reminded her of dozens of twirling ballerinas, spinning endlessly on their pointed shoes. Sharon opened her eyes. _Dreams_. They were the bane of her existence. She had grown used Stephen, but now Andy. It was almost too much to bear.

She had shut him out. She had purposely stopped herself from feeling anything, because it was the only way she knew how to survive. She hadn't meant to hurt him. She had done it to protect herself, but somehow, she had ended up hurt too. And now, after all of that, here he was again. These two men, the one she hurt and the one she lost, together in one dream. _What does it mean_? She rolled over, not wanting to know the answer. Sharon had stopped trying to interpret her dreams long ago.

_But…_

That didn't mean she couldn't indulge. She closed her eyes, and once again, the memory of his lips pushing gently against her own filled her thoughts. Like hot steam, it clouded her senses. _Andy…._

With her mind entranced by the visions of a sweet, simple love, she drifted slowly off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**** It's taken me awhile to figure out where I wanted to go with this story, but I think I've finally decided on a direction so I really hope you all stick around. Thanks for reading :) **


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Sorry everyone for the long hiatus. I've been a little distracted later with some other work I've been doing, but last week's Major Crimes episode gave me the jolt I needed to come back to this story. I plan on trying to finish within the next couple of weeks. Thanks for sticking around. **

Chapter 5

10:27 AM, OFFICE OF DR. FRANCINE LIPSCHITZ

"Now, just don't say anything stupid."

"What do you think I'm going to say?"

"I don't know." Sharon walked several paces in front of him as they trekked up the long driveway.

"Believe me, I've had a lot of experience in this department. Marital discord is not an area I need help faking."

"Good." Sharon said, smoothing down her hair. "It's imparitive that this appointment goes well. If this woman is in fact a potential suspect, we don't want to scare her into not talking."

"This isn't my first rodeo you know." Sharon reached out a finger and pushed lightly on the doorbell. "What's this lady's name again?"

"Dr. Lipschitz."

"Doctor my ass. She has a subscription to _Spiritual Inspiration Monthly_," he said, holding up a limp magazine. "'Ten Easy Steps to Uncovering the True You,' do you believe this crap?"

"Lieutenant would you stop looking through her mail and get over here. We're supposed to look like a normal married couple."

"If we were a normal married couple, we wouldn't be coming to this quack in the first place."

Sharon shot him a glare. "Would you just get over here?"

Andy put back the magazine back in its place and made his way across the porch. Describing the space as difficult to navigate would be an understatement. Packed with an eclectic combination old wicker patio furniture and decorative ceramic statues, one could barely move. Andy swore loudly as he hit his foot against the side of a brightly painted figurine. It wobbled threateningly back and forth before finally returning to an erect state of frozen amusement. "I hate people who collect gnomes."

"Why isn't she answering?" Sharon pushed the doorbell again. "We made an appointment."

"Maybe it's broken." He pounded his fist against the glass door.

"Could you please try not to break the door?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you have a better suggest –?"

"Shhhh!" Sharon cut him off. "I think I hear something. Hello? Dr. Lipschitz?"

"Yes! Coming! Coming!" The porch light flickered on with a threatening pop.

"I hope she knows it's the middle of the day," murmured Andy.

"I'm coming. Hello!" the woman said, swinging open the door. Her shrill voice seemed to echo through the open air. "I'm so sorry. Have you been out here long? Oh my god, I am just an atrocious mess this morning. I really must get myself a watch."

"Or a brain," added Andy. Sharon jammed an elbow into his ribcage.

"Oh, It's really no problem," Sharon said quickly enough to cover Andy's insult. "We haven't been waiting long." Andy could hear the strained tone of politeness in her voice, quietly chastising. He smiled to himself. "I'm Sharon Raydor and this is my husband Andy Flynn." Andy nodded slightly.

"Please come in, come in," the woman said, taking Sharon by the hand and pulling her forward. "I am just so happy that you two called. I've been a little short on couples lately. You know, the economy and all," she looked at Andy with a serious expression. He tried his best to stifle a snort.

"I'm very sorry to hear that," Sharon added.

"Nothing to be sorry about! I am sure it will all work itself out. Now…" she spun around toward the opposite room, her unnaturally red hair wrapping itself around her face. "Let's get started!"

Andy and Sharon followed her into a small sitting room. "Please, have a seat." The woman gestured toward an antique love seat sitting under the room's large window.

"Thank you," Sharon said, clandestinely wiping a thin layer of dust off the fabric's surface. "Dr. Lipschitz, I –"

"Please! There are no formalities here! Call me Francine."

"Francine. We were hoping to get some help in our relationship. We –"

"No need to go any further. I already know what your problems are."

"You do?"

"Yes, yes. I already know everything about you two."

"So you're a psychic?" Andy's snarky response was met with a stern glare from Sharon.

"I have a heightened sense of understanding in regard to personal relationships," Francine said, lighting the small candle sitting next to her. "It's kind of like a sixth sense sort of a thing."

Andy laughed again. Sharon was starting to see why this woman was short on customers. "So, what are we supposed to talk about then?" She did her best to keep the skepticism out of her voice.

"I like to start all of my sessions with some mental meditation exercises. I find that it helps to clear the air of any bad karma."

Sharon was now struggling to keep the cordial smile on her face. "Now, I'm sure we could just skip over all that."

"Nonsense!" Francine said, waving her arm dramatically through the air. "It is a necessary part of the therapy, especially for someone like you."

"Someone like me?"

"I sense that you are holding a lot of rage inside you. You need to let that out. Relax. Learn to be entirely in the present."

"Excuse me, I really don't –"

"Oh come on honey, lighten up," Andy interjected. "It will be good for you to get rid of all that bad energy." Sharon turned to give him a severe glare. Her eyebrows were arched higher than he had ever seen them.

"Thank you Andy," Francine said enthusiastically. "That's the kind of attitude I'm looking for. Now, let's begin. I would like you each to close your eyes and center your mind." Andy couldn't help but glance over at Sharon. She scowled intently at Francine, whose serene expression remained unchanged. Reluctantly, Sharon sighed and closed her eyes, purposefully crossing her arms in front of herself. He followed suit.

After several minutes of uncomfortably silent silence, Francine began to hum quietly. It reminded Andy of crickets chirping, relaying the season's change through their own ritualistic chant. He peeked over at Sharon. Her back had stiffened considerably, but her eyes remained closed. _She always was good at following instructions_.

Taking full advantage of her unaware state, Andy continued to look, examining her without fear of retribution. He started at her feet and traveled up her body, stopping briefly to admire the tight muscles of her legs and the soft curve of her lower back. He noticed how the buttons of her blazer strained slightly against the outcurve of her breasts. Her face was aged, but beautiful. The slight crinkles around her eyes and mouth captivated him, each line a hidden clue waiting to be discovered. Her unfailingly perfect hair cascaded in a sleek sweep down her back. Andy liked the color. Even in the darkened room, it seemed to give off a warm glow. It reminded him of the caramel candies his grandfather had always carried in his pocket, just sweet enough to satisfy any craving.

Caught up in the illuminations of Sharon's appearance, Andy panicked slightly upon realizing Francine's hypnotic humming had suddenly stopped. He turned quickly away from Sharon and shut his eyes tight, hoping he hadn't been caught. Francine's bracelets clanged against the chair's wooden arm. Opening one eye slightly, Andy saw her peering back at him, serene expression still in place. He met her gaze, and she smiled. The red sheen of her lips juxtaposed harshly against the ivory tones of her front molars. He knew he had been caught. Francine, still smiling like a jack-o-lantern, held a finger against her lips and Andy shut his eyes again.

The silence seemed much less awkward this time around. He could sense Sharon sitting next to him breathing lightly, barely loud enough to hear, but there none-the-less. It came to him in waves, washing soothingly over his subconscious. A distant memory flickered in the back of his mind. Him as a child, standing at the ocean edge holding a seashell against his ear, listening hard as it quietly mimicked the rhythms of the sea.

Francine's voice broke through the hypnotic surges. "Now that you've had time to center yourself, it is time to start our first exercise." Andy winced slightly. Was it just him, or had her voice heightened in pitch? "Keeping your eyes closed, reach out and hold each other's hand."

Neither moved.

"Don't be embarrassed. It is important to embrace your partner on both a mental and a physical level." Sharon sighed and Andy felt the shift of the cushions as she uncrossed her arms. He followed suit, reaching his hand toward hers. Their fingers lightly brushed against each other before finally entangling in a tentative clasp.

"Good. Good." Francine seemed elated by the small gesture. "Andy, how does Sharon's hand feel?"

"Now, this is ridiculous." Sharon's eyes popped open, her gaze blazing.

"If you really want to fix the problems in your relationship, you need to be open to new experiences." Wrapped in a turquoise shawl draped haphazardly over a long, flowing skirt embroidered with ornate gold flowers, she seemed much older than her twenty-five years. Sharon sighed and closed her eyes again. "Go ahead Andy," urged Francine.

"Um…" He had no clue how to respond. "It feels…warm."

Francine nodded enthusiastically. "Warmth is a sign of an open spirit."

"Or a sign you're alive," whispered Sharon under her breath. It was her turn to be sarcastic.

"This means you are capable of embracing love." Francine's voice had taken on a new, overly dramatic tone. "Now, Sharon, tell me, what do you love about Andy?" Andy felt Sharon's hand shift slightly against his own. He had an impulse to squeeze it, but refrained.

"Um…" Now it was Sharon's turn to squirm uncomfortably. She had suddenly become very grateful their eyes were closed. "I like…"

"Love," Francine gently corrected her.

"Okay, I _love _that he tries very hard to make the world a better place, even if he's not sure he ever can."

Andy opened his eyes and looked at Sharon. He had been expecting some half-felt comment about his appearance or a snarky aside about his dirty sense of humor, but not that. Not something that was honest and so entirely true. His hand had suddenly become very sweaty.

"Thank you, Sharon for sharing," crooned Francine. Sharon's expression remained completely neutral. "Andy, your turn." Francine was smiling pleasantly at him from across the coffee table. He quickly closed his eyes again, searching for something to say.

After a long moment of silence, it came out in one quick breath. "I love the way she smiles when she thinks no one is looking and the way she slowly combs her fingers through her hair at the end of a long day." For the briefest moment, Andy felt Sharon's fingers tighten around his hand before quickly retreating back to their previous pressure.

"Beautiful. Well done." Andy could almost hear Francine's smug smile radiating through her trilling voice. He dared not open his eyes and meet her all too knowing gaze. "Now, for the final part of the exercise." Andy wasn't sure if he wanted to find out the next step, but really, how much worse could it get? "I ask this of each and every one of my clients before I begin regular sessions. Body language can really tell you so much about a relationship."

Andy cleared his throat. "What kind of body language are we talking about?"

"A kiss."

"What!" they both exclaimed, dropping each other's hand.

"I need to see you kiss."

"I really don't think that is necessary." Sharon was now shifting uncomfortably as Andy nervously ran a hand over his tie.

"Ah, but it is the most important test of all," Francine said, twirling a finger in the air. "A kiss can tell me everything I need to know, and more importantly for you, how to fix it!"

Andy glanced nervously toward Sharon. She did her best to ignore him.

"How about we save that part of the evaluation for our next session? We're running late for another appointment," she tapped a fingernail pointedly against her watch. "You know, since we didn't start on time and everything."

"Now, now no need to be fussy. This won't take long." Francine shook her head. "And it is a strict policy if you want to continue with your next session." They needed to get to that next session.

"Sharon," Francine continued. "If you would close your eyes please." Begrudgingly, she let her eyes flutter shut once again. _Ignorance is bliss_. _All I have to do is sit here_.

Francine turned toward Andy who had finally broken eye contact with the floor. She gave him another serene smile and gestured delicately toward Sharon. For a moment, he considered standing up, grabbing Sharon and running toward the door. Screw undercover work. But, he would be doing neither one of them any favors if he messed up this job. _Just man up and do it_.

He turned toward Sharon, whose face seemed unnaturally unexpressive. _Still beautiful though_. Andy slid toward her slightly, but Sharon made no effort to move toward him. This was starting to feel like he was getting ready to kiss a statue. He moved forward again. A couple more inches and their legs would be touching. With a deep, calming breath, he reached a hand toward her cheek, guiding gently until her face met his. Andy's other hand brushed against her arm, a touch so light Sharon thought she might have imagined it. Before she had time to react, Andy's lips were pressing lightly against her own. Sharon's senses became heightened and blurred all at once. Her racing heartbeat seemed to reverberate throughout her entire body, drowning out all other noises. A sudden burst of warmth rushed from her stomach toward her face, leaving a burning trail inside. His hand still resting against her cheek, Andy pulled away. Sharon finally released the breath she had been holding, her hot breath tickling his lips. Their noses brushed against each other for the briefest of moments and then, it was over.

All at once, Sharon reclaimed her senses. She saw Andy looking at her, his eyes searching and warm. She saw Francine behind him, a lazy grin on her face. She felt Andy's hand dropping slowly from her face. The entire world seemed contained in this one, single moment.

Although her mind had regained some version of clarity, she was still a little unsure what exactly had happened. It was all confused and jumbled, the memory still too sharp to process. Sharon looked at Andy again and he nodded. Not sure what else to do, she nodded back.

"I'll see you two at the next session then?"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

11:15 AM, OFFICE OF DR. FRANCINE LIPSCHITZ

The room suddenly seemed too small. The furniture had become crowded, couches and chairs and tables all piled on top of each other. There was barely any room to walk, any room to escape toward the door. The monotonous flowers lining the wallpaper were spinning, rotating just enough to throw her off balance. A shin collided with the coffee table. _Was that there before?_ She inhaled, trying desperately to steady herself. The front door was in sight, a couple more steps, just a couple more steps. _Yes_. Cool air rushed against her flushing skin as she pushed the glass open.

Francine said something. She didn't hear, didn't respond. Andy's voice was back there somewhere, but Sharon didn't wait for it to catch up to her. She just had to get down the stairs, and she would be free. Her foot dropped. A slightly sickening rush plummeted to the pit of her stomach, disappearing just as suddenly as it came. Her foot hit solid surface. Now the next, again and again before she reached ground. _One. More. Step_. "Oh!" The back of her heel caught against the step's overhang. Body flying forward, she reached out blindly. Wood splintered against her palm.

"You okay?" His voice was right behind her now, a hand touching lightly against her shoulder. She let go of the railing, standing straight.

"Fine," she replied. She wasn't fine. She felt lightheaded and slightly nauseous. She wanted very much to turn down the sidewalk and run. _Where?_ Anywhere. _Anywhere but here._ She heard a bright beep as the car door clicked open. Her hand hesitantly grasped the handle, knuckles turning a putrid white.

"Didn't it open?"

She pulled, and the lock unlatched. Satisfied, Andy disappeared into the car. Sharon followed.

She breathed again. At least, she could sit in the car. At least, she didn't have to rely on her body to support itself.

"Well, that was…interesting."

_Was he really talking about this? Did they really have to face this just now?_ She didn't want to. She wanted to pretend it never happened. _Drive. Just drive._

"At least we got the second appointment. And I don't think she suspected anything," he glanced over at her, waiting for a response. None came.

"Sharon, I hope you aren't mad about that. I was just playing along."

_He was just playing along_? "Right. Of course." Her voice shook slightly. "I'm not mad."

"That's a relief. What's wrong then?"

"Nothing's wrong." She brought a hand up to her to her face. Her skin was on fire.

"Oh come on. You've been acting weird since we…since we got out of there."

She looked out the window. Houses and storefronts and billboards whizzed by, each blurring into one continuous streak of flashing colors. She felt dizzy.

"Unless…"

"Unless what?" she said, quickly snapping her head around to look at him.

"Unless, maybe it was more than that."

She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. The distant sound of the police scanner echoed somewhere in the background, words and voices indistinguishable from one another.

"Because you know, it was a pretty good kiss."

She could hear the humor in his voice, a tiny spark, just the hint of a smile. A part of her wanted to laugh along with him. Another part wanted to cry. "It was," she said finally, doing her best to keep the hesitation out of her voice.

Andy had turned onto the entry ramp. They were rapidly gaining speed. "So, what do we do now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if you remember, last time this happened things didn't go so well."

She did remember. "Did I ever apologize to for that? I never…I never meant to hurt you."

"It's okay." Sharon felt his fingertips brush the top of her hand, quietly pleading with her to open up, to accept his palm against her own. It tempted her. It mocked her – reminded her of something…

"_**I'm sorry, okay? I am sorry." He looked in her direction, eyes drifting briefly off the road. She remained silent. "What else do you want me to say? I didn't know it would make you so angry. It was just a spur of the moment thing." Still, she said nothing. "You can't remain silent forever you know. At some point, you're going to have to talk to me...Sharon, please just talk to me."**_

"_**What do you want me to say?"**_

"_**Tell me what you're feeling."**_

"_**I'm feeling angry."**_

"_**Okay, I got that. What else?"**_

"_**Annoyed."**_

"_**Annoyed. Why are you annoyed?"**_

"_**Why do you think?"**_

"_**My mother." **_

_**She tilted her head in confirmation. **_

"_**What did she do?" **_

"_**Like you don't know."**_

"_**No honey, I don't know. I wasn't there, remember?"**_

"_**Oh, I remember alright. You left and left me there alone with that horrible woman."**_

"_**What did she do?"**_

_**Silence again. **_

"_**Sharon, what did she do?"**_

"_**I don't want to talk about it."**_

"_**Now don't be ridiculous, Just tell me."**_

"_**No, it's stupid."**_

"_**Sharon."**_

"_**Sh—She told me that she wished you had married Holly Hayer instead of me."**_

"_**She did not say that."**_

"_**Yes, she did."**_

"_**Well, I'm sure she didn't mean it."**_

"_**You didn't hear her say it."**_

_**He looked at her again. "Sharon, you can't seriously be upset about this. You are the only girl I ever wanted to marry. Not Holly Hayer. Not anyone else. You're it babe. You're the only one that's ever mattered."**_

"_**Yeah?"**_

"_**Yeah." He paused. "And as for my mom, fuck her."**_

_**Sharon's laugh filled the car and his hand slid over hers, clasping gently, palm against palm. **_

"Sharon. Sharon!"

"What?"

"You kinda stopped talking there. Are you sure you're okay?" Andy looked worried, his head pivoting quickly toward her, then back toward the road. Sharon noticed his hand no longer sat atop her own.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, I guess I'm just tired."

"Right." His voice seemed terser than normal. They were pulling off the highway now. Ten more minutes and they would be back at the police station. Andy opened his mouth, his lips parted in a perfect oval. He closed it again, shaking his head.

"Were you going to say something?"

"It's just," he stopped, picking his words carefully. "I'm getting a little tired of this."

"Of what?"

"Of this game." He suddenly switched lanes, taking a sharp turn off the road, toward a graffiti stained ally. Sharon felt the seatbelt's sharp strain against her shoulder as the car skidded to a stop. "If you're going to feel something, then feel it! Don't just sit there pretending to be indifferent." Andy's words echoed around the enclosed space, letters bouncing haphazardly off one another into a jumbled mess. It took Sharon several seconds to unscramble them all.

"I'm not pretending," she whispered.

"So what then? You actually are indifferent?"

"No!" the loudness of her voice, surprised even herself. "No," she continued. "It's just…I'm not sure if I'm ready for this yet."

"Ready for what?" She turned away, hand moving toward the door handle. There was still time to run. "Sharon, talk to me."

"_**Just talk to me."**_

She had told the story a hundred times. It was always the same: a vague explanation, just enough to brush past the probing questions. The words would roll out of her mouth so fast that her mind barely had time to comprehend. She liked it better that way. This time it was harder. The words were still there, but they felt like molasses sticking against her tongue. "Five years ago, my husband…Stephen…he…"

Realization flashed across Andy's mind. Hundreds of books lining chestnut colored shelves, seemingly untouched in years. "He died." It all seemed so clear now.

Sharon nodded her head, unable to finish the rest of her story. "I like you Andy. I do. It's just…I'm not sure I can do this again."

"Oh."

Car after car sped past as they sat in silence. With each passing vehicle, their car shook slightly, rocking back and forth to some unsung lullaby. It was strangely calming, like the patter of steady rain in a storm.

"I understand," he said, finally breaking the quiet.

"Do you?" How could anyone truly understand?

"You're not ready. I can understand that."

"Okay."

"But, I just want you to know, if there ever comes a time when you are ready, I'll be here."

"Okay," she said, inhaling deeply. _Okay_. He would wait for her. He would wait for her.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

2:27 PM, OFFICE OF DR. FRANCINE LIPSCHITZ

"Ready for round two?" Andy asked, jovially following Sharon up the steps.

"I'll just be happy when this whole thing is over."

It was Saturday. Saturday usually meant a day off. Back when Andy had first started, he worked almost every weekend. But now, with the departmental budget freeze and drastic spending cuts, overtime had become a dirty word. Policy was that unless the case posed a threat to public security, it could wait until Monday.

Unfortunately for Sharon and Andy, Dr. Francine Lipschitz was not aware of the LAPD's new policy. She had blatantly refused to schedule their second appointment on any other day but today, leaving them with no other choice but to show up. Their undercover investigation was a critical step in finally arresting and convicting the long time mobster and known murderer, Joe Abrams. Nothing as pointless as an overtime dispute should jeopardize an investigation of this magnitude. Through sheer tactical persuasion, Sharon had managed to convince Taylor to pay for Andy's overtime. She would go without compensation.

That is how the pair of detectives found themselves here, on a Saturday, once again weaving their way through Francine's obstacle course of a porch toward the front door. Andy pounded on the glass. He glanced at Sharon who seemed more relaxed than he had seen her in weeks. Maybe it was just the change in attire. Instead of her normal business suit, Sharon wore jeans and a dark purple button down shirt that hugged in at her waist. Her hair seemed to have a bit more wave than usual, but still swept swiftly down her back. Andy almost liked it better this way. It seemed more natural.

"Maybe you should knock again," Sharon said, interrupting his thoughts. Andy once again slammed his fist against the thin glass of the door, causing the entire porch to shake. They waited, but still no one came. "This is ridiculous," said Sharon, attempting to peer through the stained glass windows that lined the doorframe.

"I could try calling," Andy said, pulling his cell phone from his pocket.

"Don't bother, the phone is disconnected."

"How do you know?"

"Because I tried calling earlier."

"You tried calling earlier? Why?"

"I thought it might be a good idea to _remind_ Francine of our little appointment today. Obviously, she could have used the reminder." Sharon began to jiggle the latch on the outer door, moving it up and down in a singular, forceful motion.

"What are you doing?"

"Ahh!" she said, as the door clicked.

"Sharon, what the hell are you doing?" He had never pegged Sharon as one to break into locked buildings.

"Going inside. I want to check and see if she's here." Sharon looked at Andy and sensed his trepidation. "Don't look so worried," she whispered mockingly. "We're not breaking in. This is a place of business."

"Okay fine," he said, following her inside. The hall was even dustier than he remembered. The air was laden with a layer of invisible dirt that seemed to settle at the back of his throat. He wanted desperately to cough, but managed to suppress the urge.

"Hello? Francine, are you here?" Sharon's voice sounded heavy, as if she too was having difficulty propelling it thorough the gritty air. Sharon took a cautious step forward, the floor creaking beneath her feet. Andy followed, one hand resting on top of his gun. "Hello," she said again, this time quite a bit louder.

Seconds later, they heard the distinct squeak of Francine's voice followed by the sound of feet above them. Andy and Sharon both looked up as the hall's chandelier wobbled threateningly on its hinge, sending a showering of dust onto their heads. "I'm coming," Francine yelled, as she ran down the stairs. She appeared before them in one frantic heap. Her previously smooth red hair was frizzed at the bottom, some pieces sticking out at odd angles. The dramatic shawl had been replaced with an oversize sweatshirt pulled down over a pair of torn tights. Undoubtedly, the most noticeable difference was the lack of bright red lipstick. Andy felt as if he was meeting an entirely new person.

"Umm," Sharon was just as surprised by Francine's change in appearance. "Sorry to intrude, but we have an appointment today at 2:30," she said, holding her arm out so that her watch was level Francine's eyes.

"Right." Francine's voice shook slightly. "Yes. I'm sorry. Right this way."

The pair followed Francine into the sitting room where their previous session had been held. It was much darker than before. Last time, the curtains had been open, giving the decrepit room an almost warm glow. Now, there was only a thin strip of pale light escaping through the crack where the curtains didn't quite close. Between the dimness and the smog-ridden air, Andy could barely see. Francine turned on the lamp next to her chair. It didn't help much.

Andy looked quietly around the room. Nothing much had changed since their last visit. In fact, nothing had been moved at all. Every object, down to the match Francine had used to light the candle, was in the exact same place. He was starting to get a bad feeling about this. Sharon, who was now questioning Francine as to why she was late, seemed to share in his concern.

"I was taking a nap."

"I thought this was your office. Why would you have a bed upstairs?"

"Sometimes, I get tired and need a place to rest." Francine was holding one of her incense sticks before her, trying unsuccessfully to light it. Her thumb seemed unable to stay steady long enough to hold the flame in place.

"Francine, are you sure you're alright?" asked Sharon. "You seem a bit…shaken."

"I'm fine," she said tersely. After several more tries, she finally gave up, throwing the lighter onto the floor.

Sharon studied the woman intently. Francine had yet to stop moving since she sat down. Her right leg bounced manically up and down, while her hands twisted in her lap, fingers clumsily interlacing with each other. Her eyes darted frantically around the room, every so often stopping briefly to glance at the intricate plaster designs on the ceiling. She resembled a dead leaf, shaking in the wind.

"Francine," Sharon said, sliding forward in her seat and placing a steadying hand over the woman's tangled fist. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Everything is just fine." She quickly looked up at the ceiling again.

Sharon's eyes followed. "Is someone up there?" she whispered, barely loud enough to hear.

Francine nodded her head, finally looking Sharon in the eye.

"Can you tell me who it is?"

Francine shook her head violently, as tears started to stream down her face.

"It's okay," Sharon said. "We're the police. We're here to help you." Francine shook her head, yanking her hand away.

"Look. Here's my badge." Andy held the shiny gold medal out before him, hoping to offer some reassurance.

"Tell us where he is, and we can help you," Sharon's calming voice seemed to sooth her.

"He's in the bedroom," she said finally. "First door on the right."

Sharon stood, pulling her gun from her bag. "Stay here," she whispered to Francine. The woman was shaking more than ever. Trails of dripping, black eyeliner swept across her porcelain cheeks.

Since their first appointment, her and Andy had known of Francine's connection to the Abrams crime family. She was thought to have been an old girlfriend, someone who had been privileged to some information, but was not longer involved in the day-to-day business. Maybe if they were lucky, they could get her to testify in one of the murder trials. Now it seems, Francine had been much closer than either of them had anticipated.

Andy held is gun firmly out in front of him waiting for Sharon's direction. For a brief second, their eyes met in mutual reassurance. Sharon looked away first, motioning for him to lead the way up the stairs. He moved forward without a moment's hesitation. In normal circumstances, it is best to move slowly. Take it step by step and then surprise the person at the last second. However, the creakiness of the house posed somewhat of a challenge. Each step Sharon and Andy took was accompanied by a loud, drawn out groan from the floor. The element of surprise was all but lost. Realizing their dilemma, Andy quickly changed the plan of attack. He scaled the stairs two at a time, moving faster and faster the higher he climbed. Sharon kept up pace behind him.

In seconds, they had reached the top of the stairs. The first door on the right was just on the opposite side of the railing. Andy kicked in the door and a translucent curtain of dust billowed around them. Careful not to inhale too deeply, Sharon followed Andy down the hall and watched him disappear into the smoke filled room. She saw a man, medium build with dark, curly brown hair, lying on the bed. He was wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs and was searching frantically in the dresser drawer beside the bed. At least six cigarettes sat in the ashtray next to him.

"HANDS UP! HANDS UP WHERE I CAN SEE 'EM!" Andy screamed.

The man continued searching. "HEY! HANDS UP OR I WILL GLADLY SHOOT YOU."

Raising both hands in the air, the man turned to face the door. Andy quickly instructed him to climb off the bed and lay face down on the ground, hands behind his head.

Sharon's heart was slowly returning to its normal pace and she managed to take a calming breath without inhaling too much dust. As she lowered her gun and began moving further into the room, an arm circled around her neck, lifting her into the air. She let out an exasperated scream and her entire body was slammed into the wall opposite her. The gun flew out of her hand, crashing loudly to the ground.

"Sharon!" Andy's voice seemed distant. Maybe all this dust was just clogging her ears.

The man's hand slid away from her neck and circled around her middle just below her breasts, trapping both arms against her sides. "Shoot him and I shoot her," the man said, bringing a gun to Sharon's head.

Andy backed out of the room slowly, his gun still pointed toward the man in the boxer briefs.

"Hey! Are you deaf or just stupid?" said Sharon's captor, tightening his grip considerably. "I said put down the fucking gun or I shoot the girl." Sharon struggled against him with little success. His muscular arm held her firmly against his chest making her top half almost immobile. She kicked wildly, hoping that she could hit a weak spot in his leg, but it was no use. The man was so tall that her feet barely touched the ground. If he could hold her entire weight with a single arm, it was unlikely that a few kicks to the shin would cause him to buckle over in pain.

Andy had finally emerged fully from the room, his gun still pointed in the direction of the man on the floor. He looked directly at Sharon. She met his gaze, letting her fear finally bubble to the surface. His shook his head as if telling her not to worry, that he would find a way out. She took a steadying breath and let his placating eyes wash over her. For that brief moemnt, she felt safe.

"Put the gun down!" the man screamed at Andy. "I don't want to have to tell you again."

"Are you his security guard?" Andy asked, his voice surprisingly steady.

"What kind of a fuckin' question is that?" the man yelled. "I said put the gun down."

"You know, if you are supposed to be his security guard, you sure are lousy at your job."

The man's grip on Sharon tightened further, making it difficult for her to breath. "You won't be sayin' that after I blow her brains out." Sharon felt the cold metal graze against her temple.

"I put this gun down and what happens to you?" Andy continued. "What happens to the guy who fucked things up? What happens to the guy who didn't do his job? I'm guessing the Abrams don't take that sorta thing real well. Do they?"

"Hey shut up! Shut up! Okay? You don't know a _fucking_ thing." Sharon felt the barrel of his gun digging further into her skin.

"Been working as an LAPD detective for thirty years pal. I've seen my fair share of mob killings. Do you know what they do to fuck ups like you? _They get rid of them_." Andy's last words were barely louder than a whisper. Sharon felt the man's arm quiver around her body, as a bolt of anger surged through him.

"THAT'S A LIE," he screamed, releasing his death grip on Sharon and throwing her into the opposite wall. She crumbled onto the floor. In the blink of an eye, he had brought his gun out in front of him and was aiming toward Andy. "Take that back."

Andy didn't hesitate. Without so much as a pause, he shot the man straight in the chest. The entire house shook as the man dropped to the floor in front of Sharon. He was dead before he hit the ground.


End file.
